


Kinship and blood ties

by Rogercat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Amon Ereb, Celegorm raises Dior, Childhood, Chronic Illness, Conflict, Doriath, Family Drama, Family Issues, Father Figures, First Age, First Meetings, Foster Care, Gen, Half-Elves, Jealousy, Luthien and Beren dead, Nature Versus Nurture, Parent-Child Relationship, References to Illness, Secrets, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: (sequel to my other story Equivalent exchange)Seven years have now gone since Celegorm came back to Amon Ereb wíth the orphaned son of Luthien and Beren, but things have not been fully peaceful: Thingol wants his grandson back as a new heir of Doriath, and Dior is unwilling to leave Celegorm, who is the only parents he can remember...
Relationships: Amras & Amrod (Tolkien), Caranthir | Morifinwë & Sons of Fëanor, Celegorm & Dior, Celegorm | Turcafinwë & Curufin | Curufinwë, Dior Eluchíl/Nimloth of Doriath, Finduilas Faelivrin & Orodreth | Artaresto, Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë, Orodreth | Artaresto/Orodreth's Wife
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	1. A hard truth

Year 480 in the First Age, Amon Ereb: 

A child was playing near the sparking water of the river Gelion, watched by some adult Elves. It was reasonable peaceful. 

“Atto! Atto, look, I found some fine stones!” 

The boy hurried over to a silver-blond hunter, eager to show what he held in his hands. 

“My, what a pretty finding you got. They should be the right size to hold down our maps and other important document flat on the tables, to avoid that they rolls together again…”

Then the father became quiet, spotting something in the distance that had not been there before. 

“Atto?” the child asked nervously, having a bad feeling about this. His father in all but blood only acted like this if he could be in danger. 

“Dior!” Celegorm ordered at seeing what kind of danger it was, “ride back to Amon Ereb at once!” 

His foster son did not question why, running to the horses where one servant helped him up in the saddle. This was hardly the first time something like this happened. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Dior obeyed, riding straight back to the Noldorin fortress. 

“Uncles! Uncles!” 

Maedhros had been overwatching the soldiers training out in the courtyard, when the young Half-elven child showed up without his brother. 

“What? You returns without Celegorm?” 

Dior tried to respond, but he had gotten another one of his coughing fits during the hurried riding and needed to regain his breath before he could talk again.

“D...Doriath….” 

Maedhros immediately understood why his brother had sent Dior back alone, while staying behind with his servants. By pure luck seven years ago, Celegorm had been around Tol Galen when the returned Beren and Luthien had found out the hard way that their home offered no protection like the Girdle of Melian against enemies. The famed lovers had died a second time in a orc attack only four years after that they had returned to life, leaving their three-year-old son a orphan. 

“Get indoors to the healer so you can get your medicine for that cough, and wait for one of us to bring you along when Celegorm returns!” Maedhros ordered, knowing that Celegorm would have wanted his foster son to be safe. 

  
  


Because he was born to a set of parents who had spent nearly two years dead and buried, Dior had not managed to avoid something Luthien and Beren likely had failed to think about; 

That he would be affected by their dead state, because it in truth was unnatural that dead bodies returned to life. The whole pregnancy had been dangerous, and Dior was born with a sicky health, almost like Mandos had wanted to mock his parents for their belief in that their love could overcome everything that was against them. 

“Amras, do we have some honey left? I need a spoonful or two to add in a cup of hot water,” Maglor said at hearing the wheezing coughs before Dior entered the healing wing in the fortress. The ten-year-old had grown slightly stronger since his first arrival here seven years ago, but he would never enjoy a perfect health like his Elven kin. 

“What on Arda have caused you to cough like this, kid? Celegorm knows better than driving you too hard during the training you can manage.” 

“Riders from Doriath again, most likely sent to try and get me away from here,” Dior muttered bitterly as soon as the warm honey water relieved his cough. He was more exhausted than usual, and would have to rest if he could cope with something else later in the day. Maglor did not need to ask the boy to rest on one of the beds, and then left the healing wing since Maedhros called on him and the youngest brother to come outside. 

  
  


Out in the central courtyard of Amon Ereb, Celegorm and his servants had returned, with three extra Elves who looked pretty beaten up from what had to be a fist fight. Bound by their hands and feet, the three Sindar could do nothing against being tossed to the ground like sacks of grain in front of the seven Sons of Fëanor, who had gathered together. 

“How many times do we have to tell Thingol that, if he wants his  _ precious _ grandson back, he have to give us the Silmaril in return?” 

This was hardly the first time Thingol showed the same poorly thoughtfulness as he had done by demanding a Silmaril from Beren as the bride price for Luthien. With his beloved daughter and only child lost forever by choosing mortality, this left Dior as the official heir to Doriath despite his young age and that, naturally, caused a difficult situation since Dior was being raised by Celegorm. And now, when Dior was old enough to understand why strangers sometimes had tried to flat out kidnap him when Celegorm was not directly by his side, it had hardly became any better. 

“A heir to the Sindar should not be raised by the Noldor! That child is Luthien's legacy, and the King does not want him tainted by the hands of Kinslayers! Least of all someone who tried to force her into marriage!” one of the Sindar protested. At those words, Celegorm's grey eyes flashed dangerously for a moment with one hand tightening around the dagger handle in his belt, the whole event with Luthien in Nargothrond was a sore point for him, and being reminded of that was a good way to get him in a bad mood. 

“Sorry for being born from a half-Maia who used singing as her main weapon alongside her famous beauty, then!” a voice snapped from somewhere, Dior showing himself in a open window as he had wanted to watch what happened out in the yard. 

“Dior, go back to your writing lesson!” Celegorm ordered over his shoulder. He knew that the writing lesson had already been done earlier that morning before the riding tour at the river, and mostly said it as a reason to make Dior go back further inside the great keep before things went out of control. 

“At least Atto knows how face a enemy directly in open battle, rather than  _ hiding himself  _ behind the magic powers of a wife!” 

Dior was normally a gentle soul, but he could prove how his upbringing by Celegorm, who could be called the most ungracious among the brothers when it came to people he found foolish, had not exactly made him ínto someone who could be viewed as well-manned according to the different ideals of Doriath. 

“Ill-bred and without education, just like that mortal who sired him...and this is the child Luthien left behind for her father to be his new heir?” one of the captured Sindar sneered, unknowingly hitting one of the sore points of Dior in return. 

No one, who knew how sensitive Dior was about his lineage, doubted why he suddenly looked so upset to the point of tears building up in his eyes.

“ ** _I never asked to be born to them as my parents!_ ** ” 

His outrage was already affecting him, all the present Elves could hear how his breath was becoming uneven. Then the Half-elven child rushed upstairs under the sounds of upset wailings, a movement that would not improve his breathing at all. 

“Deal with those for me, please,” Celegorm requested shortly, handing over his hunting bow to Caranthir before running after his foster son. He heard the sound of Maedhros striking someone with his Dwarven-made iron hand

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The third son of Fëanor was not surprised to find Dior inside his own chamber, the little body shaking of both exhaustion and crying where he laid with his face down on the quilt, his hands holding around a pillow in a attempt to not be heard. 

“...do not want...I do not want to be in Doriath…they are all strangers to me!” 

The bed was large enough to leave room for them both. Celegorm sat down without a word, then placed himself on the side and pulled Dior close. Whatever Dior had a emotional outburst like this, silent comfort like this had proved to work the best in the past. 

“How can the K-king and Q-queen think that...t-that I would gladly leave the only home that I remembers?! That I would leave you, for a pair of strangers that I have no memory of meeting?” 

Celegorm did not know what kind of words that would comfort Dior, but he knew one thing. Despite everything, like that the boy was the living proof of Luthien choosing Beren over him, the Fëanorian had came to care enough for Dior to almost view him as his own flesh and blood. 

How it had happened, he did not know but he doubted that Dior had used any inherited Maia powers from Luthien and Melian. No, it was the the simple knowledge that the boy needed someone to take care of him until that he was a fully grown adult. And in Doriath where Thingol and Melian ruled, poor Dior risked to be compared to his deceased mother, forced to carry a burden of expectations that he could not possibly live up to. Besides, how would he be treated due to most likely being a mortal and his sickly health not promising him to have a long life? 

“I will not let them take you to Doriath against you will. No one will.”

It was all Celegorm could promise, for now. Dior did sob again, but he had stopped crying and hugged his foster father tighter in a silent begging to be held closer. 

  
  


It took some hours, before the other brothers saw Celegorm again. Carrying a still sleeping Dior against his shoulder, the hunter accepted a plate with some cut-up pieces of fruit as a small snack. 

“If Thingol wants to meet his only grandchild, he better send a invitation for a such event before Dior grows into a adult. And I will come along, to ensure that it will not be a trap to prevent Dior from leaving Doriath once he passes the Girdle.” 

Those who only viewed Celegorm as a brute, the unwanted suitor to Luthien, someone driven to follow the darker sides of a hunt, did not know how he showed loyalty or love. By taking Dior as a foster son, he tried to at least make something worthy of a legacy outside the Oath.

“That can be a letter Dior writes to Thingol in his own hand, tomorrow in the writing lesson, and sent by a messenger bird so we can get a response quickly,” Maglor offered as he picked up his harp to start playing music. 

Whatever Thingol hoped for, it would not be in his favor. In fact, even if Dior would start a new life in Doriath, it may even be too late to undo the basics of the so far Noldorin education Dior had gotten here at Amon Ereb. He could read and speak Sindarin, but it was the dialect spoken by the Fëanorians and this had also led to him use the same kind of pronunciation in certain words as them. He was too frail to be a warrior thanks to his health, but it was enough to make him very unlikely to be the heir that Thingol possibly hoped for. 


	2. First contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dior is not really wanting to take contact with his maternal kin

Celegorm was not surprised by that Dior slept poorly that night, as they slept together in his bed because Dior wanted the comfort of his foster father. He tended to react in a such way whatever something with Doriath happened, as it reminded him of his actual lineage. No one knew if Dior was cursed with some form of foresight, but he really did not like how the actions of his birth parents had left such mistrust between the different Elven realms. 

Finally, after spotting the signs of Dior suffering a nightmare, Celegorm pulled the boy closer to himself and began to sing softly. His singing voice was nowhere close to Maglor, and he had never really mastered the art of it, but he could piece a few things from different hunting songs he once had learned in the Woods of Oromë and ancient songs among the Noldor together to form an impromptu lullaby: 

_ In the distant East, we awoke _

_ The soft sounds of waters  _

_ Near peaceful woods _

_ And there memories started  _

_ In those Woods, deep and unknown _

_ Answers could be found  _

_ Walk carefully in there _

_ But not too far, or you'll be lost _

_ The great Hunter is there _

_ Lords of Forests and wildlife _

_ Protection is found in his Woods _

_ But can you face the dangers there? _

_ Starry sky, Woods and waters,  _

_ our earliest memories are  _

_ formed from those three sights _

_ And the sounds of those _

Dior relaxed more at the end of the lullaby, and Celegorm knew that his sleep was peaceful again.

“A ten-year-old should not have to worry about politics and other things that belong to the adult world…” 

As far as the seven brothers knew, Dior had followed the growth pattern of the race of Men until now, and nothing suggested that it would change in the coming years. He was a mortal, not a Elf, and that put him in a awkward position not only as the sole direct heir left to Thingol, but as the son who would be forced to carry the heavy burden of a most troublesome legacy left by his birth parents. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

The next morning at breakfast, Dior could not hide how poorly he had slept thanks to the hint of dark shadows under his eyes. 

“Fire-related nightmares again,” Celegorm explained when the unspoken question was sent in his direction. The blurry memories of the day he had became orphaned, being trapped on the upper floor of the house as the fire did spread from the kitchen area. Had not Celegorm arrived that day, Dior would have died a most horrible death, living only little over three years after his arrival into the world. 

“Dior, since Thingol have tried to take you back without your own consent or sending a letter to him where you begs to leave us...would you mind writing a letter to him about stopping this? Doriath may be protected by the Girdle, yet all sides of the Noldor have very good reason to not give him any help in this,” Maedhros spoke up once everyone had finished eating. 

He was right; Nargothrond had never forgiven Beren and Luthien for the loss of Finrod and its current king Orodreth refused to take either side about what to do with Dior, as long as Nargothrond was left out of the conflict. The Fëanorians was not only unhappy about the way in which Luthien had refused Celegorm offer of marriage but also for that Thingol had not given them the Silmaril after that the Quest was over. And Gil-galad, who was the High King of the Exiled Noldor despite his young age, had no reason to help Doriath given that his father Fingon might have still been alive today if Thingol had sent soldiers to help the Noldor in the battles against Morgoth. 

“And what if he does not take the hint?” 

Good question, but that was a answer they could only know later. 

  
  
  


As Dior struggled with reading and getting his letters right, something which caused him to have trouble in his school lessons, Maglor helped him first by making a draft for what he could write to Thingol. 

“The most important is to keep your tone neutral, and try to avoid to reveal any personal feelings about this whole matter.” 

“Even if I would rather not have any contact with Doriath at all?”

Despite his young age he was a prince, even if that blood was from a different royal family, and this meant that Dior would be treated with the same respect as the seven brothers by the servants and soldiers. And as a prince, he was requested to have some form of education in reading and writing. 

“You may be a child still, but this is hardly a situation to act childish. It would be preferable to avoid making Morgoth happy by seeing us Eldar fight against each other and ruin the chances for a new union against him.” 

Dior may only have been two years old when Nirnaeth Arnoediad happened in the year 472 of the First Age of the Sun, and orphaned the following year, but he had grown up in the aftermath here in Amon Ereb. It was inevitably that he heard people talk about how different the battle could have gone, if only Thingol had swallowed his pride and given aid to the Noldor. It was many who were not exactly fond of the King of Doriath, for many reasons. 

The boy took time to carefully write, looking over at the draft once in a while and even moving his lips to sound out the words to avoid that he mixed them up again as it often happened in his school lessons. 

“I think this will be the best I can manage for now, or it will be worse.” 

Maglor had to agree. Dior tried very hard to write neatly despite his struggles, and he chose to let this become the letter to be sent off to Thingol with a messenger bird. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Despite that Dior was a living proof of that Luthien had chosen Beren over him, Celegorm tried his best to not let those memories from the past sour his relationship with the boy. And right now, the three Elves from Doriath had once again invited themselves to something unpleasant: 

“Please tell me exactly  _ what, _ is so ** _ admirable_ ** of a princess who causes chaos in her path together with her mortal lover?”

Celegorm had overheard them talk loudly about Luthien and how brave she must have have been to “escape” from his hands, even a mocking laughter of that he must be a sorry excuse for a hunter if his “prey” had slipped away. It was not the reminder of Luthien that angered him, but rather how they indirectly was rude to Oromë alongside their own ancestors who had lived near Cuiviénen and this naturally, had resulted in them getting a taste of how Celegorm was not afraid of using his fists to beat up someone for insolence. Sure, he had something of a bad reputation to be a brute, but his skills in hunting and killing had its basics in what he once had been taught as a youth. 

“Atto! Atto!” 

The sound of Dior calling for him upstairs, made Celegorm leave the beaten-up Doriath Elves on the ground of their holding cell, letting the prison warden to take care of their injuries. He knew that he did not leave the best impression by his actions like this, but to be honest, he did not care about it. 

  
  


Back up on the front yard, Dior was trying one of the wooden logs meant to be used in balance training. To be precise, he tried to only walk on his toes without falling off the log. 

“Oh, your balance have gotten better. Good for you, it means that you might be able to sneak around with me on a hunting trip soon if you manages to be quiet and keeps a eye on where you set down your feet.”

Earlier this spring, when Celegorm had brought along to look at the newborn animals in the wooded of Ossiriand across the river Gelion from Amon Ereb, Dior had stepped several times on a dry twig when he was about to move backwards, which naturally had scared away the animals. 

“Please take me along! I will try my best to be quiet this time!” Dior begged eagerly, for he enjoyed the rare trips away from the fortress. He understood that it was dangerous to leave the protection the Noldor soldiers offered, given that it was not unheard off with scouts arriving back after chasing away orcs from the lands around Amon Ereb, but since it was very rare for Celegorm to bring him along, those journeys was even more special. 

“Let us wait and see what response we get from Thingol first. Your letter was sent away not many hours ago and it will take some time for the bird to return here.”

That was a logic Dior could not argue against, and instead he was happy when Celegorm brought him to the training ground for some light training with the wooden swords and how to use a bow with arrows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU Dior is suffering from dyslexia, which mades it difficult for him to learn reading and writing in the school lessons 
> 
> Cuiviénen was a bay on the shore of the inland Sea of Helcar in the far east of Middle-earth where the Elves awoke. Given that the Valar did not know exactly where those first Elves had awoken in Middle-earth, I imagine that they lived a life similar to the Stone Age before Oromë found them and thus hunting would be a very important part of that life to get fresh meat for food, animal skins for clothes, and animal bones for various tools


	3. Illness of the body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dior gets ill, in a manner that have happened before

Not many days after that the letter had been sent to Thingol, Dior felt more exhausted than normally. In fact, he also got a little dizzy when trying to leave his bed so he could dress for the day. 

“No...not one of those fever attacks again…” 

He did not know why, whatever it was that his healthy was sickly from birth or something else, but Dior hated that he seemed to get periods with a high fever at least once each season. 

“Atto! Atto! One of my fever attacks are about to start!” 

The distressed cry, quickly cut-off as Dior collapsed to the floor, was heard by several servants who happened to be on duty as the night watch, not only Celegorm. 

  
  


“Dior!!” Celegorm called as he rushed down the stairs from the storey above. This was only one of several reasons to why he had insisted on that Dior had his sleeping chamber closer to the healing wing. If Dior became ill in some way, it would be easier for the healers if they did not need to run across the whole fortress to treat him. 

“We heard him, what is going on?” 

Maglor had came as well, joined by the Ambarussa. Their other brothers had their sleeping chambers distributed in different places in the fortress, mainly because outside sharing a tent together on travels, they generally liked to have some form of privacy in order to not tear on each other's patience too much. 

“I will find out…” Celegorm responded in a low voice that did not really hide his worry. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

It was a really bad fever this time. In fact, Dior began to cough, hinting to that he must have caught a cold from a group of visiting mortal allies who had been at Amon Ereb a few days earlier. 

“Calm down, Tyelkormo. Right now you are acting like that really worried mama-cat you reminded of when we helped Nelyo to recover. Go and eat something, at least,” Caranthir said at seeing how his third oldest brother acted. In fact, seeing Celegorm without changing clothes or at least pulling his unkempt hair up in a simple ponytail, was all signs they knew to be alarming signs about him being really distraught. 

“I am not leaving Dior! What if he wakes up and wants me here?” 

A new cough from the bed only proved Caranthir right, as Celegorm immediately knelt down to see if Dior needed anything. 

  
  


Since Celegorm refused to leave Dior, the brothers ended up having a quick meeting in what basically was Maedhros' office. 

“It really unnerves me to see him fuss that much over a kid that is not even his own…” 

Curufin was silenced by Maedhros slamming the desk with his metal hand, an unspoken command to not say more. 

“ ** _Curufinwë Atarinkë. _ ** _ Being a father yourself, you should understand the best why Tyelko is so worried for Dior right now, and every other time the boy have those fever attacks. Or have the loss of both Astarë and Telperinquar, though his repudiation of your deeds in Nargothrond, made you heartless about the meaning of caring for a child altogether? _ ” Maedhros wondered in a dangerous voice while speaking Quenya, purposely mentioning his deceased sister-in-law and the only grandson of Fëanor. That he even used Curufin's father-name and mother-name together, was another warning about that the fifth brother was dangerously close to crossing a thin line.

Curufin tried his best to hide it, but none of the brothers failed to see him twitch slightly. Maedhros knew his wife and son to be one of his few weaknesses, along with the desire to try and be as similar to their late father as possible, since Curufin always had been proud of being the favorite son. That, however, was something his brother was not hesitant to use against him if needed. 

“You are  ** _jealous_ ** on Dior, Curvo, for how Celegorm pays so much attention to him,” Caranthir said bluntly, where he was making a new embroidery just to using his hands for something that needed his full focus. 

“I am not! Rather, I think that Celegorm should stop coddle the boy and instead send him back to Doriath where his real relatives are!” Curufin snarled back, realizing too late that by the outburst, he had gone into the trap. Pretty much all the five brothers gave him the same disappointed look. 

“You are basically saying that you want Celegorm to become his old self again, the older brother who you always followed like a shadow and you never had to worry about a rival to his attention. Now when you have a such situation, you have no idea how to actually deal with it, since the whole “marriage with Luthien” was ruined like a sand castle by a sea wave,” Maglor stated in what seemed to be a calm voice, but cold as ice. 

“That was to make Thingol stop hiding behind his damned Maia wife and actually give us help against Morgoth! What father would not want his daughter safe from attacks…”

Maedhros rose to his feet so quickly that his chair was turned over, and his furious face told them all that Curufin was perhaps only one careless word away from getting himself beaten up with the metal hand which Maedhros arranged into a closed fist by pulling around some tiny screws at the bottom of the palm. That the metal hand was Dwarven made, a gift from Azaghâl as a sign of the Dwarves of Belegost had joined the Union of Maedhros, only made it more likely that whatever slap in the face Curufin could expect, would be painful from both the metal and force Maedhros would use. 

“If now Dior's poor health is the result of what his parents did, then they were already facing unpleasant consequences which they could not hide away from. That  ** _foolish couple_ ** got their own punishment in that their only child was born sickly because they had been dead before his begetting, which denied them the chance to brag about their love for each other overcame everything that worked against them, as well that their son was a proof of that the Quest for the Silmaril was worth all the dangers.” 

Death could not create life, everyone knew that. A female body, whatever it was a animal or one of the Children of Eru, could not ensure the survival of a developing offspring in the womb after the moment of death, and as a rule the unborn offspring also died without ever being born. Premature birth was a invitation for entering the Halls of Mandos without spending much time in the living world. 

“Curvo. Get out with a few men and hunt down some orcs or something else. Just do not be here for the coming days, unless you really want Celegorm to not react well to what we are gonna tell him about this meeting,” Amras requested, since there was no way they would keep this from Celegorm. 

Curufin did actually pale in fear at that threat. He knew that his silver-blonde brother had a violent side of his personality, most often seen in battles with orcs as the victims. Like a savage animal, Celegorm would not hesitate to use his teeth alongside anything he could grab as a weapon, anything to kill enemies. If Celegorm thought that Curufin might plan to harm Dior when the boy was in a helpless state, a normal sibling brawl between them could easily turn into something more serious.

“....yes.” 

The twins took the task of “escorting” Curufin back to his chamber and help him pack whatever he needed to be away for a week or more. 

Within a hour, he was gone from Amon Ereb with a small group of warriors. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As things was, Dior began to sweat all over his body the following day because of the high fever, because he still felt like he was freezing despite getting several blankets. 

“Gross…” he thought in a absent-minded way later that evening, feeling how wet his back was from the sweat and how his nightshirt felt sticky as well. However, his legs was unsteady as he walked towards the bowl with lukewarm water to try and wipe himself off. Celegorm awoke at once at the sound of the bowl landing on the floor as Dior was not reacting fast enough to catch the bowl. 

“Dior!?” 

The boy stood there on shaking legs as a new cough made him shiver, now feeling cold without the nightshirt and the blankets, naked as the day he was born. 

“Washing...sweaty…” Dior gasped, and Celegorm saw it all in the light from the candle at the bed. It was a wonder that the mattress had not become wet yet. 

“Let me help, where is that towel?” 

Dior was too tired to protest, letting Celegorm clean him all over with the damp towel once he had squeezed out the water. However, Dior wanted to try cleaning himself on one place. 

“It is good that you are not allowing any touching there without your consent. It means that you are aware of your body and what you will not accept other doing with you.” 

Dior was no coward, and had seen his fair share of both male and female bodies in the baths before, but there was something about his own body that made him desiring to cover himself up as much as possible. 

“The scale-like markings on your shoulder blades seems to have grown somewhat, and I think there is a few ones starting to grow on your shins and upper arms.” 

Not good. Whatever it was a result of his Maia blood or something else, Celegorm knew that those markings would cause Dior great pain soon if they were not removed quickly. The biggest problem, however, was that it had be done by surgery. 

“I want them removed. As soon as I am free from the fever. If they remains...I feel like I am something... _ unnatural _ …” Dior spoke up, looking at his foster father over his shoulder with a pleading look.

“I will tell the army physicians tomorrow, they have done this before on others and have the skills needed to ensure that you will not lose too much blood.”

With that promise, he saw how Dior took a deeper breath of relief. This was not the first time the Half-elven would undergo that surgery, it had been done twice before and since no one knew what it really was for markings along with that Dior was hurting from them, the physicians had agreed with Celegorm that removing the markings was for the best. 

“Come on. Go back to sleep so you can recover faster,” Celegorm offered after helping Dior with a new, fresh nightshirt. To ensure that Dior felt secure, he laid on on the side of the bed so he almost wrapped up the ten-year-old with his long body. 

“Thank you...atto…” 

Apart from a few coughings, the rest of the night was calm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My personal headcanon is that Curufin got very overconfident by being Fëanor's favorite son to the point of acting as if he could order his brothers around and that Maedhros, annoyed over how his brother behaved, often needed to put him back in place, alternatively poke a hole in his ego by various reminders that Maedhros is the eldest son and heir (and current head of the family now in Beleriand), while Curufin is the fifth son and have three older brothers in Maglor, Celegorm and Caranthir between himself and the position of being the family head
> 
> Also, with the idea of Curufin's wife Astarë dying in the Dagor Bragollach, I think Curufin would hold a serious grudge towards Thingol and Doriath for not helping the Noldor when they lost several realms, ending up as refugees from their own homes and the idea of marrying Luthien to Celegorm, in the hope of more or less forcing Thingol to action, would possibly be a result of that since Curufin was already a widower and he knew from the history of his grandparents that Finwë marrying a second wife after the death of Miriel did not create a happy family. On the other hand, Celegorm was a bachelor with no set betrothal from before, and since he seemed to fancy Luthien along with that she was the only child of Thingol… a plan that sadly ended up in disaster. 
> 
> I know that many fans have the idea of Curufin creating a metal hand for Maedhros to use, but somehow I found it funny if the favorite son of Fëanor found himself outclassed by the Dwarves in that area, since the Dwarves would be a lot more familiar with amputations and the need of prostheses not only to accidents in the mines, but in battles against orcs too. So the hand Maedhros uses to honor Azaghâl, is pretty advanced for the First Age 
> 
> The mentioned scale-like markings are in fact a proof of Dior's Maia inheritage from Melian though Luthien, but since he is sickly and also having mortal blood in his veins, they causes him great pain


	4. To just be there for someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dior undergoes a surgery

A few days after that the fever had passed, it was time for the operation to remove the strange scale-like markings on Dior's shoulder blades and shins before they grew any bigger in size. Dior had not eaten anything at dinner the previous day, since the healers had told him about how it could cause him to vomiting without warning during sleep and risk getting stomach contents down into the lungs. To keep Dior somewhat calm, Celegorm held him in his arms so there was a comfort of being close to someone he trusted. 

“Here is the anesthetic, my lord.” 

They had dropped a sponge in a careful mix of herbal medicines for sleep and pain-numbing. As it was held under his nose, Dior felt himself slowly become sleepy. 

“No worry, Dior, we will try and be as quick as possible. And the healers are skilled, they have exchanged knowledge with the Dwarves on how to act in operations, and of course, trained on the soldiers under the past centuries.”

The half-elven boy knew that Celegorm was talking more to himself to try stop worrying about that something might go wrong. 

“Because...the healers never...needed that kind of...knowledge or abilities back in...Valinor…” 

Of course the kid would catch on the differences in what once had been useful in Valinor and here in Middle-earth, but Celegorm merely saw it as a sign of that Dior proved himself playing far more attention to cultural differences than what Luthien had done. 

“Right. He is fully asleep now.” 

It was proved when Dior did not open his closed eyes or reacted in any way when Celegorm handled him over to the healers. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

Just in case, a healer among the visiting group of Dwarves had offered to help out with the operation, since his race had a lot more experience doing surgeries than the Elves, often training on victims of a cave-in or wounded soldiers to try and prevent them from becoming cripples. 

“Right. If we are careful so he will not lose much blood, it should be over quickly.” 

Child-aged patients were not that common, but their mortal allies allowed the Noldorin Elves to at least become somewhat familiar with how children would react. In some ways, Elflings were not that different from mortal children, depending on the situation. 

Since they would need to make the surgery on four different parts on Dior's body, the healers had came to the agreement that they would try doing it all on the same time, two standing at his feet so they could remove the markings on both his shins and a third one at his upper body in order to operate on his shoulder blades, in the hope of avoiding that Dior would lose too much blood and shorten the operation time. 

  
  


While sending Celegorm down to the kitchen with a gentle order to make a nutritious broth for Dior to drink when he had woken up from the anesthetic in a few hours, he was not waiting in growing anxiety outside the operating room, Maedhros returned to his office for some paperwork. 

“My lord. A letter from the High King and his regent.” 

Meaning that it was from Gil-galad, and Fingon's wife Rilel. It was some time since he had gotten their last letter, due to the distance between the Isle of Balar and Amon Ereb. 

“Thank you. It will be a joy to hear from them again.” 

Maedhros had always seen Rilel as a worthy spouse of Fingon, for she was of Noldorin lineage despite being born here in Middle-earth some years after the crossing of the Grinding Ice and originally been a personal guard of Fingolfin during journey, meaning that she was used to carry weapons on herself and no stranger for whatever dangers that could show up. It had amused him greatly to see his cousin trying to impress the younger She-elf after how Fingon first had spotted how good she was with a sword, and then how the love-stuck Fingon struggled, in unusually humorous results at times, to make her accept the idea of marrying him. 

_ Dear Maedhros.  _

_ I hope that things are well in Amon Ereb and that you have gotten to enjoy a good spring that will hopefully bring a fruitful harvest this coming autumn… _

As he kept reading further down in the letter after the more personal news, one detail caught Maedhros' attention. Gil-galad wanted Dior to meet him, with Nargothrond as the meeting point since Dior and Finduilas was the only known royal heirs among the Elves for now? However, at recalling why the current High King of the Noldor would request something like that, something only a few people knew nowadays because so many had already died, Maedhros sighed deeply. Not by disappointment, but rather by everything that could go wrong on the journey to Nargothrond and back to Amon Ereb. It would be a almost perfect timing if Thingol sent out a full force against their escort, all with the aim of taking back to his missing grandson. 

“No, better to have Dior attend the meeting. Even if he may not live a long life, or even becoming a mortal King of Doriath by being the sole heir who has his lineage from Thingol himself, this could be a way for him to know that outside the whole “ _ stealing the silmaril from Morgoth and returning from death _ ”, Luthien and Beren are actually not as unique as many may think…”

As if the princess of Doriath and her mortal lover even was the first known romance between a Elf and a Second-born, for the matter! No, that honor belonged to his late cousin Aegnor and his love Andreth, both long gone from the world. 

“Hm...I need to speak with Celegorm about this. As the one who is raising Dior, he have the final say.” 

And Dior would also need to learn about the possible meeting, even if they did not end up doing the travel. After all, if he could try making a better relationship with the Noldor and Nargothrond, it would truly prove that he was nothing like his selfish parents. 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

When Dior woke up, he felt very thirsty as his blurry sight slowly became sharper again. 

“How are you feeling?” Celegorm asked, holding one of the smaller hands in his own so Dior would feel some comfort from the touch. 

“W..wa…” 

No surprise, so he brought over a clay mug with fresh water and helped Dior to sit up slightly so the boy would not choke. 

“No more for now, you might vomit otherwise if you get a too big dose of drink.” 

Nausea was not uncommon after waking up from surgery, but in a few hours Dior would be able to eat the vegetable-based broth so his stomach would not be too upset. Mild food was the best for the next two days. 

“The operation went well, so now you only need to heal and then we shall keep a eye for new markings eventually.”

Personally, Dior hoped that this was the last time he had to do this surgery, his sicky health could not be helped but those markings were unnatural, somehow he knew it without being able to explain it with words. 


	5. Travel to Nargothrond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A travel to meet other relatives

A month after the operation, did Maedhros, Maglor and Celegorm ride out from Amon Ereb for the journey to Nargothrond together with a group of guards while their four younger brothers stayed behind to keep a eye on things at home. Dior was now fully healed, and would be strong enough for a such travel. In order to not tire him out every day, they had chosen to swift between Dior riding one older, calm gelding and riding with Celegorm behind his back.

“Why would Gil-galad want to meet me, of all people? I mean, given the events eight years ago, surely he would be justified in feeling resentment towards my family…” 

Of course he was confused, Maedhros understood that. Dior was a bright child despite his struggles with writing and reading, so naturally he would pick up that there had to be a reason behind that request. 

“Your parents met a early death after their rebirth the very year after that battle as a result of Doriath not helping us with more soldiers, and Thingol is hiding away behind the Girdle. Besides, only a fool would blame a child for events beyond your control, as you were still a toddler when Fingon died.” 

“Oh, right. I am the only one of his family outside Doriath. Not something I am used to think about,” Dior realized as they rode on. 

“Even as a mortal unlikely to live even for a century, you are still the sole heir of Doriath left, unless your grandparents begets a second daughter or a son of their own this time. That makes you a important person in many ways, for all of that you can not play much of a role in the world of adults yet.”

Celegorm knew that politics were not his strong side, but at the same time, Dior were not a young child anymore. If he followed his mortal bloodline, he would be a adult man in ten years when he had reached the age of twenty years since birth. Keeping someone naive about stuff, such as the differences between various cultures, well into adulthood even if it was well-meant, was a invitation for disaster in the longer term. Luthien's shock mixed with pure disbelief over his anger towards her choosing Beren over himself was a good example, she was used to rejected suitors being too scared of Thingol for bothering her further and despite Finrod and his brothers visiting Doriath, and Galadriel even marrying the younger grandson of Thingol brother Elmo, nothing suggested that the only princess of Doriath honestly had taken much interest in the Noldorin culture and customs. 

“Uncle Maedhros, what sort of useful things can you tell about Nargothrond so I do not end up making myself seem rude like my parents?”

Right, naturally Maedhros prevented Celegorm from saying anything with a warning glare.

~X~X~X~X~X~X

As they did not want to be seen by possible spies from Doriath and risk getting attacked by those because Dior was brought along, the riders took the southern side of Andram, the long wall of hills that ran across Beleriand west to east for nearly three-hundred miles, from Nargothrond to the Gates of Sirion and ending to Ramdal.

During the journey, Dior took the chance to ask and learn as much as possible whatever they made a stop to let the horses rest, or setting up camp for the night. Even on days when they could not travel at all because his sickly health suddenly acted up and forced them to stay in a camp for a extra day, Celegorm could tell that the boy wanted to arrive to Nargothrond soon. 

“He is only a decade in age, and yet he is already sharpening up to be far more aware of the outside world than Luthien. Perhaps...if there is a way to at least strengthen his health, if only for a little bit, he could become the world-wise heir the sheltered, protected Doriath is desperate to have without them knowing about it...” 

It was the right choice to not sheltering him from reality despite that many mortal parents would have done so with a sickly child, if they could afford to do it thanks to having several other children who would work and do chores in the sickly child's stead. But Dior had rarely been allowed to use his sickly health as a excuse to not do his lessons he was given not only as a royal heir, but as a ward of a battle-hardened warrior. 

“I think it is best that I stay and sleep outside the Doors of Felagund, since I am pretty unlikely to be welcomed inside after that  ** _fiasco _ ** fifteen years ago,” Celegorm commented one evening when they were only one day of travel away from the underground Elven city. 

“Wow, Huan seems to have found your old common sense somewhere in the halls of Nargothrond and given it back with his death. Guess that the enchantress did not steal it fully when you acted like a love-stuck fool.”

Dior knew that Maglor was only joking, but no one in the group could mistake the change in the mood around the campfire at that indirect mention of Luthien. After all, it was a sour point for his foster father. 

“Atto, uncles...do you think that Huan would have remained with my parents, if he had not died against that werewolf?” 

Celegorm used his waterskin and drinking some of the water inside to hide a slightly sour look on his face. 

“A hound like him? Hardly. Huan was a Maia, but he preferred to take the shape of a hound for reasons I never found out. Perhaps he simply felt that foolish princess and her mortal was in bigger need of  ** _babysitting _ ** than I, since I had grown used to fight against orcs and other wicked beings for remaining alive.”

Maedhros snorted to hide a laugh. Babysitting was the right term for what poor Huan must have been forced to do with that couple. 

“We will get up early tomorrow to arrive to the pre-agreed meeting place, so you better go to bed now, Dior.”

From the smell in the offered cup Celegorm held out, it was chamomile tea. Not that Dior minded, he would always be given that herbal tea if he had trouble sleeping for some reason and chamomile tea was known to help with sleep.

“Thank you, atto.” 

No one was surprised to see the ten-year-old soon fast asleep in the tent where he and Celegorm slept, the herbal tea always had that effect on him. Well, he needed that sleep, for tomorrow would be a very unusual day. 

  
  


The next day: 

When the three sons of Fëanor and their escort arrived, the others were already there. Dior had seen painted miniature portraits of Orodreth, his wife Calen and their daughter Finduilas during his history lessons where he had learned about the Noldorin royal family and the branches of it, so they were pretty easy to spot even with rather simple clothing and plain gold bands as crowns. 

“Somehow that dressing style fits them, rather than being overly ornate in a hard-to-move clothing style and lots of jewelry…” Dior thought for himself as he saw the current royal family of Nargothrond. Somehow, Dior found Finduilas delightful in a more natural way than his faint memories of Luthien before her death. Perhaps it was that Finduilas was a normal elf with no Maia blood at all in her lineage, that made her seem less out-of-place, he could not really put his finger on it. But was that a black mourning band on her arm?

“Well meet, Cousins,” Orodreth greeted them, in a manner that revealed that he was not very likely to trust them that easy as once in the past. They dismounted and gave him a formal bow, Dior keeping himself half-hidden unless he was addressed. 

“It is good to see you all in good health,” Maedhros responded. Then he gently pushed Dior forwards a few steps, closer to Orodreth. He was a little scared, but tried to show the result of his education with a respectful bow. 

“Your  ** _Majesties, _ ** King, Queen and Princess of Nargothrond.” 

A stunned silence followed his words, for Dior had chosen to show that in his eyes, Nargothrond held more power than Doriath. Not merely for helping out in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, it was a Noldorin realm as well. Thingol was less powerful outside Doriath than what the Sindar there wanted to admit. Then Calen broke the tension by a soft smiling: 

“If that is not the training your Noldorin princes once got in your own childhood in order to not offend the Vanyar and Teleri royal families, then I must say that a  _ certain person _ really was ill-educated when it came to no longer finding herself being the only royal offspring in Beleriand anymore.” 

Dior relaxed somewhat when he understood that she meant that he showed far better manners than his late mother, as a trumpet was heard somewhere. 

“Ah, the young King of all the Noldor.” 

Indeed it was Gil-galad and his own escort showing up. He wore a crown with a single sapphire, likely a hint to the colours of the device for the House of Fingolfin, together with two smaller white diamonds on each side of the sapphire. Unlike Fingon, the current High King shared not the grey eyes and black hair so common among the Noldor, so Dior guessed that the dark brown hair and brown eyes had to come from Rilel, Fingon's wife. That Gil-galad already was at his adult height, and showed all signs of nearly finishing growing, told Dior that the High King must be close to his coming-of-age. Still, a young ruler by the standards of the Elves. 

“ _ Hold on...is he merely sun tanned due to living at the coast, or was lady Rilel a darker skin colour thanks to being born here in Middle-earth after that the Sun had raised in the sky? _ ” 

Dior tried to recall her painted image to confirm what got him confused all suddenly, it was not unknown that Elves born after the arrival of the Sun had a easier time to get tanned during summer than those who once had known the world before the sun.

“King Orodreth, my Lords. It is great to see that you could agree to the meeting. And that you did bring Dior along, it is good that both the heiress of Nargothrond and heir of Doriath could meet me as well. After all, it could end up with that all three of us ends up as young rulers.” 

A trio of young rulers...right, Dior realized that Finduilas could no be any older than 120 years then, because even when you were a fully grown adult, the first century following that important step in life still made you count as less experienced in what adulthood could really mean. 

“Come,” Orodreth spoke,”there is a welcome meal awaiting you back in Nargothrond.” 

Showing himself as the host, he took the lead towards the elven city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order for Finduilas to have entered a betrothal with Gindor before year 472 when he was captured in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, she must have been aged 100 years, the age when a Noldo Elf is legally considered a full adult, because I doubt that they would accept a such important step in life for a underage Elf even in times of war


End file.
